Page 35 - A Little Bush Maid

hip was not higher than her left. So Norah rode on a dainty little hunting
saddle like Jim’s, her habit being a neat divided skirt, which had the double

advantage of looking nice on horseback, and having no bothersome tail to
hold up when off.

The boys were dressed without regard to appearances--loose old coats and
trousers, soft shirts and leggings. Red-striped towels, peeping out of Polly’s

packs, indicated that Jim had not forgotten the possibilities of bathing
which the creek afforded. A tin teapot jangled cheerfully against a

well-used black billy.

"All right, you chaps?" Jim ran his eye over the ponies and their gear.

"Better have a look at your girths. Come along."

Norah was already in the saddle, exulting over the fact that, in spite of Jim’s
prophecy that she would be late, she was the first to be mounted. Bobs was
prancing happily, infected with the gaiety of the moment, the sweet

morning air and sunshine, and the spirit of mirth that was everywhere.
Mick joined him in capering, as Jim swung himself into the saddle. Billy,

leading Polly, and betraying an evident distaste for a task which so
hampered the freedom of his movements, moved off down the track.

Just as Wally and Harry mounted, a tall figure in pyjamas appeared at the
gate of the back yard.

"There’s Dad!" Norah cried gleefully, cantering up to him. The boys
followed.

"Had to get up to see the last of you," Mr. Linton said; "not much chance of

sleeping anyhow, with you rowdy people about."

"Did we wake you, Dad?--sorry."

"Very sorry, aren’t you?" Mr. Linton laughed at the merry face. "Well, take

care of yourselves; remember, Norah’s in your charge, Jim, and all the
others in yours, Norah! Keep an eye to your ponies, and don’t let them stray